


nimietas

by ehonauta (banzai)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Character Study, Everybody loves Sam, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Kid Fic, Multi, Pepper Potts is the actual best, Prompt Fill, Short dorky stories, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Unlikely Friendships, Unplanned Pregnancy, by a short dorky author, monsters learning to be human, stuck in an elevator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 21:58:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1999428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banzai/pseuds/ehonauta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of tumblr prompt fics, because I keep forgetting what I tagged them as. Various relationships, lots of character study.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. poor life choices (steve and jane)

**Author's Note:**

> Come prompt me! I'm on tumblr as [ehonauta](http://ehonauta.tumblr.com/).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Chris Evans and an OFC get stuck together in a stalled elevator - OC is claustrophobic and Chris has to pee.  
> (My comment: Oh dear heart, no, I’m sorry. I don’t write real people - it’s a personal squick! but...)

The Captain America suit, while excellent for movement and combat, was sometimes kind of binding on a full bladder. It’s not like he meant to have that whole lemonade on his way back to the tower, but the kid was so damn earnest, selling her wares out of the side of her dad’s newspaper kiosk by the subway entrance, that Steve couldn’t say no to a freebie offered so sincerely, could he? Of course not. 

And it would be fine, really - it’s not like it takes long to get back from basically anywhere in Manhattan, except — well, except—

"This is… uncomfortable," mutters his companion. 

—Except now he’s stuck in the elevator with Jane Foster, of all people, and they seem to have silently decided to have a “who can be more awkward in a confined space” contest.

"I’m sorry," he mutters, again. 

"Mr— um. Captain— Steve. Um. I’m entirely sure that this isn’t your fault so you can stop apologizing. You’re as bad as Dr. Banner.” She gives a weak smile but seems to shrink a little, and he thinks he hears her wheeze as she presses her back a little harder into the elevator wall.

"Dr. Foster, are you having trouble breathing?" he asks with concern. 

"No, it’s just… I don’t like enclosed spaces. And elevators make me particularly nervous, all that fragile metal barely keeping you from plummeting to your death—" her eyes widen as she realizes what she’s said. "Oh my god, that was so insensitive, oh, I’m just—”

Steve puts both hands up to ward off the apology. “No, hey, it’s ok. I’m not that delicate.” He gives her a crooked grin. “My therapists are super effective. And also sometimes Natasha smacks me upside the head for moping, which is helpful.” 

Jane returns the smile, a little chagrined. “So you’re ok?”

Steve rolls his eyes at himself. “Well, I’d be better if I’d been patient enough to hit the little boy’s room in the lobby but, uh. Yeah. I’m fine.” 

Jane gapes at him for a moment before they both burst into laughter.


	2. practice (bucky and bruce)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> atrickstertype prompted: Bucky and Bruce! Dealing with being rage driven death machines. Bonding. Y’know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Assume that this a post-Cap2 future in which Bucky has been retrieved and rehabilitated enough to join the Avengers in the field, but he’s still kind of in recovery.)

“It feels like you’re getting away with something, doesn’t it?”

Bucky looked up sharply from the mug of herbal tea Bruce had placed in front of him as they sat in one of the tower’s communal kitchens. “What?”

“You’re letting all that nastiness come out, out there.” Bruce continued quietly, calmly. “All that rage and the bloodlust and the violence and most importantly the joy of how much you love killing people. And they let you. And when you’re done they take you home and they clean you up and they coddle you - not despite the fact that you’re a monster, but because you’re a monster. You’re just a monster on the “right” side now.”

Bucky recoiled slightly, his eyes widening.

Bruce continued, relentless. “And they don’t have any idea what’s going on in your head, and they never will.” He placed the bowl of warm food - something Japanese, Bucky thought, but wasn’t sure - in front of Bucky and sat down across from him with his own bowl.

“But what you need to know, Sergeant Barnes, is that it doesn’t matter what’s in your head. It doesn’t matter what instincts you’re operating with unless your instincts to protect the innocent and listen to reason are compromised. If you can use what’s inside you - in any way - to do good—”

Bucky interrupted him. “What’s ‘good’? Who’s ‘innocent’?” he rasped. “Who says —”

Bruce met his eyes, his gaze determined. “We have to judge that for ourselves. You and I are human, philosophically speaking, anyway, and so is everyone on our team. Sometimes we will make mistakes, and many times we will have doubts. But if you don’t trust your own judgment, or mine, or Tony’s, then find someone whose judgment you do trust. And if that person says something you’re not sure about, challenge it.

“The way to rebuild your human instincts and counteract your killer instincts is to practice. You’re not getting away with anything. You’re just practicing. We’re all just practicing.”

Bruce fell silent at that, quietly starting his meal.

Bucky stared at him for a long moment, then picked up his own fork but sat motionless. When Bruce looked up inquisitively, Bucky was studying him.

“I can… practice,” he murmured.

“Good. That’s all anyone has the right to ask of you.”

Without another word, they finished their meal and went their separate ways.


	3. shifting tradition (steve/darcy/bucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unplanned pregnancy angstfluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self-indulgent id fic, not a prompt fic. inspired by the far superior [bold as love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017499/chapters/2022855) by polexia_aphrodite.

The baby was what pushed them all over the edge, really.

Darcy had been torn between her strongly-held belief that a woman’s name was her own, damn it, and that a relationship - even a legally-sanctioned one - didn’t change that, and a little girl’s romantic dream of loving someone so much that on some level  it changed who you were. The fact that she loved two someones, enough to want to commit her life to them, made it easier, really. She wouldn’t publicly dismiss either one of them, so they remained Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes and Darcy Lewis.

Steve loved it, frankly, not that that was surprising. Between the deep wellspring of love and devotion he’d had for his single mother, and the respect and affection he’d had for trailblazer Peggy Carter, he was already primed to support everything the women’s movement had done while he was frozen. He often thought it hadn’t gone far enough, honestly, and more than once offered to change his name to Lewis, much to his publicist’s horror.

Bucky … was complicated. Much like Natasha, he’d had too many names and not enough ownership of them. He believed with every fiber of his being that he had no damn right to tell Darcy what she should call herself - or them - but sometimes it ached that the closest they got to normal was this splintered, modern “arrangement.” He didn’t resent being in Steve’s shadow - how could he, when Steve was the only reason he had enough of himself to have an opinion, much less anything in his life that was his enough that he had the right an opinion. Sometimes, however, he resented being forced into the role of Steadfast Sidekick Bucky Barnes, eternal third wheel to Captain America and Cap’s perfect retro spitfire pinup bride. He wasn’t just Bucky, not anymore, and he wasn’t Iakov (or even Yasha, though he smiled when Natasha said it), and he wasn’t the Winter Soldier and he wasn’t James Barnes, really, and he was  _exhausted_  by it.

So when Darcy - irritated as hell at having violent nausea every time she tried to eat kimchi - finally figured out she was pregnant, they were stumped. Darcy offered to just have the baby be a Lewis. Steve wanted them to make a new name, something important to the three of them, but Bucky had other ideas.

“He should be a Rogers, Stevie.”

“Oh, come on, Buck, you know there’s as good a chance —” started Steve.

“No, hey, we’ve been through this, babe, I’m not cutting you out —” protested Darcy.

He scowled and cut them both off. “This baby should be a Rogers. And you should be a Rogers. And  _I_ should be a Rogers, for what that’s worth. Nobody’s left in my family to give a damn one way or another. Darce, your  family is, well, I’d rather not talk about it, but  _you_ , Steve — you’re the one people care about. And I’m tired of everyone getting mixed up in what they think they see here. And I’m tired of using a dead man’s name.”

Steve flinched hard. “Jesus, Bucky. Don’t pull your punches or anything.”

Bucky sighed and scrubbed his regular hand over his face. Darcy curled up next to him on the couch, scooting close until she could drape her arms and legs around him and rest her head on his shoulder.

Bucky tried again. “I want to stop trying to be James Barnes and be James Rogers instead. I want to share a name with the man I’ve loved for years, and I want to share a name with  _our wife_ and the child we made. Darce, sweetheart, I know you aren’t totally sold on this kinda stuff, but—”

“No, let’s do it.” She wrapped her left arm around his, pressing a kiss to the star high on his shoulder, and reached her right hand out to grab Steve’s hand. “This  _works_ , Steve. Everyone knows you, and everyone who cares to know, knows we’re yours. If we do this, it’s because we’re  _sharing_  this name.”

“But wouldn’t you rather start over? Make something new?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” replied Bucky. “I’m tired of being remade into something new. I want to be tied to something that’s bigger than this moment. Steve, I just want something to be normal - or as close to normal as we get. And I think… I think your ma, once she got over having the vapors, wouldn’t’a minded too much having me for a son-in-law, if that sort of thing had happened back then”

Steve choked out a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh, and moved to reach around them both in a hug. “You always could charm her, even if she cursed your name when you’d leave.” He buried his face against Bucky’s other shoulder and Bucky felt the hot splash of tears. Darcy reached out and petted Steve’s hair gently.

“Steve, honey, we don’t have to. But… I think it might work? I just want you both to be happy.”

Steve looked up, teary, and leaned over to press a gentle kiss to her mouth, then turned to do the same to Bucky. “Are you kidding? I’m so damn happy I can’t see straight.”

They clung to each other for awhile, murmuring their love, and discussing names for the baby - boy or girl (but with gender-neutral variants that Steve insisted on). They had their lawyer file name change paperwork for both Darcy and Bucky in the morning, and Steve had a strongly-worded conversation with his publicist.

In the end, the birth announcement their friends received in the mail featured a photo of the three of them, sweaty, exhausted, and beaming, and one tiny, blotchy newborn. It was signed, “With love, from the Rogers family.”


	4. falling (sam/steve)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: SAM/STEVE + COMFORTING EACH OTHER WHEN NIGHTMARES STRIKE - bloodforthecause

He’s falling. 

He’s falling and for some reason he’s got his best friend’s hand in his and then he doesn’t — he  _doesn’t_. It’s ripped from him and he’s falling and 

He gasps awake. He’s watched Riley die a hundred, a  _thousand_  times in his sleep; just a little bit too much stress and his brain decides it’s time to push that image to the forefront. Seriously, subconscious? Not helping. 

He disentangles himself from the sheets and sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He plants his feet firmly on the ground and lets the solidity settle him while he gets his breathing under control. 

He hears a sleepy murmur from behind him and then he’s blanketed in all six foot ridiculous of barely awake Captain America plastered across his back. 

"Whatch’doin?" Steve mumbles in his ear. "Y’letgo my hand. Thought you din’t mind it." 

Sam takes a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Activate the parasympathetic nervous system. 

Steve is nuzzling aimlessly under his right ear, breaths slow and a little musty with sleep. “Whad’you need?”

He shakes a little. Lets the adrenaline flow through his system as it wants to. Lets it flow through him for a few long minutes until he starts to crash back to exhaustion. 

"Just you, babe." He reaches up and entwines his fingers with Steve’s where they’re curled over his heart. 

"Just you."


	5. grass (tony/pepper)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My offer: Give me a Marvel/MCU character and a scent and I will write you a ficlet
> 
> doctorskittles said: Tony Stark and fresh cut grass!

Tony Stark is not an outdoorsy kind of person. He appreciates – he really _, really_ appreciates that the rest of his team is basically with him on that, but seriously, his idea of roughing it is a hotel pool rather than his private pool.

So the fact that someone (Bruce? Rhodey, maybe? He’s sort of in denial about this entire undertaking)  talked him into inviting all of the Avengers (and various entourage members) out to the house on Long Island – that he never, ever goes to – is sort of confusing. He’s on the front porch, and— why does he even have a front porch? You can see the ocean just fine from the windows. This house is obnoxiously pedestrian in its design. Maybe he should have it knocked down, get someone interesting to do a new –

“You’re really sure you want to stay?” asks Pepper, stepping up to him looking, well, not bewildered, because that’s not just something Pepper  _does_ , she’s way too put-together for that, but she looks maybe mildly concerned around the eyes, god, she’s got such beautiful eyes, he wishes he weren’t personally responsible for those little, teeny tiny wrinkles at the corners he’ll never ever mention to her—

“Tony? Hon? Are you with me?”

He shakes himself. “Yeah. Yes, of course, yeah. Hey, gang’s all here, might as well—.” He sniffs, frowning. “What’s that smell?”

Pepper raises her eyebrow at him and then turns her head, sniffing delicately. She smiles. “I think that’s just fresh air, Tony.”

“No, it’s … sharp.” He makes a face. “Green. I don’t like it.”

She looks around the yard curiously. “All I smell is the ocean – which is very nice, by the way, whoever suggested this had a good idea – and a little bit of the grass.”

Tony scowls. “I’m going inside.”

“Hey, hang on, what’s going on?” Pepper reaches out and catches his wrist gently, then slides her hand down to intertwine with his. “Talk to me.”

He shakes his head, still scowling.

She sighs. “If you want to go inside, go inside. If you want to go home, we’ll go home. But you’re here and you keep saying you want to stay here while the team is here, so what’s going on, hmm?”

“I don’t—my dad, when I was a kid—“ His shoulders tense.

“Okay, okay. You know that’s all you ever have to say on that subject.” She steps in close to him and rests her head on his shoulders. His arms come up instinctively to wrap around her waist and he tips his head against hers.

Blowing out a breath, he continues. “No, it’s stupid. I’ll tell you. I always want to tell you.” He drops a quick kiss on her cheek.  

“I just—after we moved to the city, we never came out here, and one summer mom got it into her head that she wanted to be here all summer, and dad just got flinchier and weirder and drank more and it sucked, ok? It sucked. And I was this weird indoor kid, trying to be just like my old man, nerding it up, and for some reason one day after the—“ he waves one hand vaguely “—landscapers, lawn people, gardeners, whatever you call them, had come out to mow the grass, I got it through my head that I wanted to try making my own slip-and-slide type thing. I found a tarp in the shed, and grabbed the hose and it was fun – sort of fun, fun in the moment, although it gets kind of dull when you’re the only one doing it, you know? Anyway, I just—I ended up ruining this absolutely hideous pair of seersucker shorts that I was wearing because I couldn’t find my swimsuit, just ended up covered in mud and grass clippings, and when my dad saw me he just lost his shit. I don’t even know, something about how I was ungrateful and wasted his money and it just—“

He closes his eyes and shifts them both around until his head is on her shoulder. She tightens her arms around him and kisses him softly on the temple.

“Do you want to go home?”

“No,” he grumbles into her shoulder.

She pauses, humming thoughtfully.

“Do you want to go teach Thor how to play badminton?”

He lets out an amused snort and squeezes her. “You are the most brilliant and sensible of women, you know that?”

She shrugs nonchalantly and smiles his favorite little half-smile. “I do. But it’s nice to know you remember it.”

He lifts his head and leans in, nuzzling against her nose and then kissing her properly. “Yeah, let’s go teach Point Break how not to turn a shuttlecock into a weapon of mass destruction.” 


	6. attack burrito (steve/sam/bucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bloodforthecause prompted: Sam/Steve/Bucky+ Cuddle piles and scary movies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this is from an old Sam-centric prompt offer. You guys can basically give me Sam prompts WHENEVER YOU WANT although I am not actually all that tied to most Sam ships – my fave is probably Sam/Darcy – I love Sam and he needs ALL THE FIC)

“This is dumb!” yells the vaguely Bucky-shaped burrito on from the couch.

“It’s also really sexist” grumbles the Steve-lump attached to its side.

Sam lets out an exaggerated sigh as he comes back into the room carrying a tray piled with supersoldier-appropriate amounts of movie night snacks.

“Look, I  _know_ it’s dumb. I  _know_ it’s sexist. It knows that too – it’s called  _Cheerleader Camp_ for pete’s sake. Hell, the only reason I even know this movie exists is that my babysitter would let me stay up on Saturday nights to watch this show where they made fun of bad horror movies.”

“Oh! I know that one,” exclaims Steve. “With the robots!”

“No, this was an older, dumber one, and mostly just made cracks about how bad the movies were. And it was just horror movies and – actually, it doesn’t matter  _at all_  because the only point of the movies is to give us something to laugh at in between makeout sessions.” He huffs. “You guys are seriously putting a cramp on my 9th grade moves here.”

“Well, hell, Wilson, you could have just said that instead of saying we were going to ‘watch movies.’ You know people keep trying to push all these damn cinematic masterpieces on us like there’s gonna be a quiz at the end.”

Sam would be a little more miffed at the huffy tone if Bucky weren’t delivering this complaint while laboriously dragging Sam into the Bucky-Steve blanket burrito by one ankle.

In under a minute he’s pressed up between two –

“Hey!” he squawks. “Nobody said we were gonna be naked!”

“Nope,” retorts Steve with a smirk. “But nobody said we were gonna be  _clothed_ either.”


	7. ocean (sam/steve)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bloodforthecause prompted: Sam/Steve - Ocean air

“This is… this is actually kind of amazing, Cap. I had no idea Coney Island was so gorgeous.”

Steve winces. “Sam, please, for the love of God, will you not call me ‘Cap’ when we’re on a date?”

Sam grins at him sunnily. “But I like it when you get all uncomfortable and squinty. Makes you look about 12.”

“Yeah? I’m not sure you really want to be telling me that what you like in a date is ‘looks like he’s 12.”

Sam’s responding noise of outrage is muffled by the affectionate kiss Steve give him, and so he rolls his eyes and tangles their hands together.

“Come on, let’s take a nice long, cheesy walk on the beach. It smells amazing out here, or maybe that’s just my nose expressing relief for getting away from the smell of overheated garbage.”

Steve shakes his head as they start to stroll down the boardwalk to the beach, past the bars and arcades. “Nah, even when I was a kid it smelled like this – fresh and salty and …  _free_ somehow. I used to feel like anything was possible if I could just get my lungs to work long enough to get some of this good air in them.”

Sam squeezes his hand and crowds in a little closer. “Hey, get all the air you want. I hear long walks on the beach are romantic.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah this hot guy I’m seeing – who is most definitely  _not_ 12 – says so.”

“Well –“

This time it’s Steve’s turn to have his response cut off with a  _very_ thorough kiss.


End file.
